


Parlor Games

by penny



Series: FMA in Roanapur [1]
Category: Black Lagoon, Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Community: no_true_pair, Crossover, F/M, violence as foreplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-24
Updated: 2009-01-24
Packaged: 2017-10-05 15:58:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penny/pseuds/penny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Archer's first meeting with Balalaika is...interesting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Parlor Games

**Author's Note:**

> For the No True Pair prompt "first time kink"

The Bougainvillea Trade Company has its offices on the outskirts of Roanapur's core business district. Archer sizes the building up from his seat in the car. So, this is Hotel Moscow's front. A utilitarian building, few windows on the first floor, a narrow front door, more than enough places for a gunman to hole up and snipe away at outside targets.

He squints up at the windows. He can't see anyone looking to take a shot when he steps out of the car, but that doesn't comfort him. According to Bradley, the new head of Hotel Moscow, Balalaika, is ruthless. If she intends to kill him, he won't see it coming until she's ready to let him.

If she intends to kill him -- a distinct possibility given the methods used to "soften her up" -- she'll have to work for it. Archer straightens his tie, a nervous gesture, but he'll allow it. Perhaps this Balalaika will underestimate him.

Well -- Archer's eyes cut briefly to Armstrong as the man exits the car -- perhaps she'll underestimate both of them. Armstrong's hulking presence is a small reassurance. The man cuts an imposing presence, and he fights well enough in close quarters, but he has a reputation of having a soft spot for kids. Perfect for transporting and protecting Selim Bradley, but first they have to secure the boy.

"Secure place," Armstrong says, glancing up and down the street.

"Stay with the car." Archer allows himself a thin, tight smile. "We don't want any explosive surprises after securing young Selim."

"Is it wise to go in alone?"

"Balalaika did guarantee my safety." Archer's smile widens. "I'll choose to believe there is some honor among thieves."

Armstrong snorts. "And I have the reputation of being naïve."

"You may choose to believe I know our respective values to King Bradley's organization. I'm the expendable party here." He starts towards the door. "Give me thirty minutes. If I'm not back, the negotiation failed, and let Crimson and Hughes handle matters as they see fit."

He has no intention of letting the negotiation with Hotel Moscow fail, but Archer has to admit he's out of his element. He's too young to impress people of Balalaika's caliber, too new to the upper levels of King Bradley's organization to hold any authority of his own in foreign territory, too clean-cut to intimidate people. That's not to say he's not without his strengths, but in this instance, he's well aware his weaknesses outweigh them. All he has at this moment is his position as Bradley's spokesman and Balalaika's promise of safety during their negotiation.

Somehow, he has to make that enough to walk out with Selim Bradley. That will secure his future in Bradley's organization. Well, he likes a challenge.

Balalaika has people waiting for him. They frisk him thoroughly, find all of his weapons, then escort him up to Balalaika's office on the top floor. "Mister Archer," she says, smirking at him through the curling trail of smoke from her cigar. "Thank you for coming." Her voice is rich and warm and tinged with enough of a Russian accent to sound exotic, but Archer barely notices that. No, what he notices is the power. Balalaika may be the new leader of Hotel Moscow, but she'll last.

"I'd say it's a pleasure, but we'd both hear the falsehood."

Her smirk widens into an actual smile. "Aren't you a darling boy?"

He keeps his expression neutral. "I prefer darling young man."

"Ah, that's right. Selim Bradley is a boy." She's amused -- it's plain on her face -- but there's a dark, dangerous edge to it.

"A very darling boy," he says smoothly.

She drops the amusement from her expression. "Bradley has made that quite clear."

"King Bradley is very concerned about his son." Archer flashes her a quick smile, ignoring the quickening of his pulse. If she wants to kill him, it will happen at any time. Worrying about it will just weaken his hand. "Though hearing Selim is safely in your custody gives him some measure of comfort. He knows you are very capable of protecting your investments."

"Pretty words, but a concerned father would come himself."

"I was under the impression you have an impressive intelligence network."

She narrows her eyes. "Oh?"

He manages to keep from licking his lips. "Even if it were merely adequate, you would know King Bradley is dealing with some annoying criminal charges and has surrendered his passport as part of his bail provisions." It's information she already knows, and even if, for some unexplainable reason, she doesn't, it's easily available. A matter of public record, in fact.

"'Merely adequate'?" Her amusement's back. She stubs out her cigar, then rests her chin on her hands. "My, my, my you are darling. I wonder," she leans forward so Archer can't miss the burn scar trailing down over her breast, "private boarding school, or some street urchin hiding his roots?"

He can handle taunts. "A very good public education." She hasn't offered him a seat, but he takes one anyway, a straight-backed chair in front of her desk that's supposed to make him uncomfortable, but he's endured worse. At school, even. "May we start our business?"

"So eager, are you?"

His pulse is so frantic now, he wonders if she can see it fluttering in his neck. He's always managed to use his fear, hide it, but he's in unfamiliar territory. His gaze drops briefly to Balalaika's cleavage again. On unfamiliar ground.

So he best find his way back to familiar ground. "You can speak to me as if I'm King Bradley. He's authorized me to negotiate on his behalf." The corners of his mouth twitch. "Since he can't be here himself."

She straightens up. "If I wished to," her mouth twists in a dark smile, "negotiate with Bradley, I'd pick up the phone. I do so hate proxies."

Archer's pulse stutters. She'll kill him. There, she's lowering her hand to --

To light another cigar. He can't help his relief, even though it's premature, even though it's a sign of weakness.

The look in her eye is clear. She knows exactly how he feels. Toying with him amuses her.

His relief gives way to anger. He hates being a plaything. Archer rises. "In that case, I apologize for wasting your time."

"Giving up so soon, little boy?"

"I came here in good faith as Bradley's representative, Miss Balalaika. We seem to have different agendas, and I am unwilling to be a part of yours."

She waits until he's at the door. "Even if my agenda could give you Gran's position here in Roanapur?"

He hesitates just for a moment. Replacing Gran as the head of Bradley's organization in Roanapur is...enticing, but it's something he can achieve on his own merits. He doesn't turn back. "If you wish to negotiate, I am at the Orchard, room 1605. I will guarantee your safety, just as you have guaranteed mine. I do hope you'll come see me. There's no reason a little boy should be a pawn in your disagreement with Bradley."

"Technically, my disagreement is with Gran," she calls out after him, and then she laughs. "Bradley just has the misfortune of being Gran's superior."

Her underlings are waiting with his weapons. "Tell her she has twenty-four hours."

The man who had frisked him smirks. "Didn't have the balls to tell her that yourself?"

Archer smiles, steps out into the sunlight. Armstrong's standing sentry at the car. He opens the door for Archer. "Selim?"

"The negotiations are ongoing. Send word to Crimson and Hughes. Have them hit someone in her inner circle. Not her second, not yet, but anyone else is fair game."

Armstrong starts the car. "That's a little risky."

"I don't believe she's foolish enough to start a full-scale war."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning she won't kill Selim." Yet. He'll have to tread carefully. "Make it very clear to Crimson and Hughes. One hit. After that, they back off and wait for further orders."

"And Gran?"

"If he objects, remind him Bradley is holding him personally responsible for Selim's well-being." Archer leans back and closes his eyes. He'll be punished too if Selim dies, but unlike Gran, he'll survive his punishment.

* * *

Six hours later, one of Balalaika's VDV boys meets a particularly gruesome fate. According to confidential police reports leaked to Archer (and certainly to Balalaika), "eighteen hours" had been carved into the man, the cuts then cauterized. Archer admires Crimson's creativity.

One hour after that, one of Balalaika's men comes to see him. Archer allows him up to the room after he's been frisked, pulls on his gloves and brass knuckles as the man makes his threats on Balalaika's behalf.

The man fights back. Archer doesn't let Armstrong step in. This is something he has to do himself, or his message won't carry the same punch. It's not a fair fight, but the man still lands a few good hits. Archer's glad Balalaika hadn't sent one of her special men. He'd need Armstrong then.

Once the man's down, Archer breaks his fingers, cracks a few ribs with some well-placed kicks. Then he goes back to the desk, writes Balalaika a quick note on the hotel's stationary, and pins it to the man's shirt.

"Have him taken back to Bougainvillea Trade Company," Archer orders Armstrong. "Have the next messenger she sends shot."

Armstrong looks uncomfortable. "Are you sure that's wise?"

Archer dabs at his bloody lip. "She's posturing." So is he, but he doesn't have to admit it.

Armstrong stares at him a moment, then hefts Balalaika's man over his shoulder and leaves without comment. He doesn't need to. Archer can feel his disapproval.

Well, perhaps he is being a little too aggressive. This is his first important negotiation for Bradley, his first chance to really impress the man. He intends to make a good impression, and if that means being too ruthless for Armstrong's stomach, so be it.

Balalaika makes him wait until dawn. Then she comes alone, striding into the Orchard's lobby like she's coming home. Archer's having coffee in the cafe and is surprised to discover he doesn't mind the view.

He settles his bill and heads into the lobby. "Miss Balalaika," he says while his men are frisking her.

"Mister Archer," she says smoothly, like it's no bother being rather invasively searched. Perhaps it's not for her. "I believe we can settle our disagreement now."

"Of course." He waves his men away and steps in the elevator with her alone. "Thank you for coming."

"Oh," she purrs as the doors slide shut, "it's my pleasure." She pulls his note out from her suit jacket's pocket. It's a little bloodstained, but his message is still legible. _Miss Balalaika, I guaranteed your safety, not the safety of your men. To borrow a phrase, I do so hate proxies._

Archer smiles. Balalaika's grin is dangerous, and Archer's pulse spikes like he's back in her office. She's fast, getting him up against the wall of the elevator, her knee between his thighs. She punches the emergency stop button, and the elevator shudders to a stop.

"Let's negotiate, Mister Archer," she says, pressing closer and getting a hand around his throat, running her thumb along his jaw.

He keeps his hands flat against the cool metal of the elevator. He can't control his pulse -- and he knows she can feel it pounding beneath her palm -- but he can control his voice, his face, his actions. So he meets her gaze without flinching. "I'm here for Selim Bradley."

She chuckles. "Such focus and dedication. I can admire that."

"Even when it comes at the expense of your men?"

"Well, that I don't like, but I can forgive you." Her breath is hot on his face. "If you ask nicely."

She smells like gunpowder and oil, cigars and scotch. It's a powerful scent, a heady scent, and the way she's rubbing against him is...distracting. He's hard, and his pulse...well, he's more than afraid. He reaches to push her away but finds his hands settling on her hips instead.

That won't do. "I'm here for Selim Bradley."

She laughs then licks the line of his jaw. "Oh, Mister Archer, we both know better than that."

He's well out of his element. Balalaika has her own power, honest power, so this seduction...it's not like she's some soft, powerless thing looking to gain power through her cunt. He can't stand that about women.

His thoughts must be plain on his face, because she laughs, and when she kisses him, it's bold and aggressive. His lip is still tender from his earlier fight, but he doesn't wince when she bites down.

She breaks off the kiss and nips at his ear. "You're here for power." She squeezes his cock through his pants. "I can give it to you."

He pushes her off him, forces her back, fisting a hand in her hair. "You can give me Selim Bradley."

"That's all?"

"I can gain my own power."

Her laughter swarms around him. "Oh, I like you. So ambitious. So proud." She reaches up and wipes the blood from his lip, then licks his blood off her thumb. "You'll make a fine addition to Roanapur."

Archer releases her and gets the elevator started again. "You're getting ahead of yourself."

"Oh, that's right, young Selim Bradley." She smoothes her hair, still smiling. "I'll have him brought here, but I require certain concessions from Bradley."

"Gran?"

"And you." She licks her thumb again. "You need to make some amends for the men I lost."

"Men you sacrificed."

"Oh, you will make a fine addition to Roanapur." The elevator reaches the sixteenth floor, and the doors slide open. "Show me to your parlor, Mister Archer. Just don't mistake me for a fly."

No, she's a spider. Just like him.


End file.
